Once a Rider
by daagin
Summary: It is 400 years after Eragon killed the dark king. Sadly nothing went as planed. There are no new dragon riders, there is no new order, and while the country might be better off than it was before the king fell and under new and admittedly better leadership, Eragon is most assuredly not Better off than before the king was killed. Not sure how it will turn out so rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own any characters that are depicted in other persons works. All OC's belong to me. I am not CP or anyone else of importance and am not masquerading as them. Other than that insert any part of a disclaimer that i have forgot. (this story has been updated/fixed slightly)**

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He lunged forward slicing his sword down in an arc. He danced between blade and bludgeon, cutting down his enemies, his foes fell to the left and the right until none stood before him and he was victorious once again. As the haze lifted from his vision, the first thing he noticed was that the sword he held was not his own. He glanced around to see all the soldiers he had just slain climbing back to their feet. Then the memories all came crashing back around him and he looked out over the crowd standing in the great tent and let their applause wash over him. With a slight inclination of his head he turned and swept off stage into the darkened rooms behind the partitioning wall. Brushing past his fellow performers he walked out the back of the theatrical tent into the narrow ally there. As the darkness enfolded him he let his mind wonder back over the past four hundred years.

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He smiled at the love of his life, both of them actually, as they stood side by side. Both were looking at him with their heads tilted slightly to the side. They mirrored each other in stance, elf and dragon, like a pair of matched blades.

"What?" questioned Arya as she let the smallest of smiles grace her face. It was a smile that no one else ever saw, one that she withheld from all but him. His chest felt as if it were no longer capable of containing his heart as it swelled with love for the princess standing before him.

"It is nothing," and here his voice caught slightly "only that I never thought to see the one I loved so completely actually love me in return."

Arya let the smile that had been forming on her face overtake it wholly as she stepped toward her beloved and let herself become lost in a kiss that none other than rider and princess could understand.

…

"Arya, Run." Screamed Eragon as he blocked galbatorix's sword. He knew that he would not be able to last long in this contest. At first he had thought that he might actually stand a chance versus the dark king. The king had not begun his attack with either magic or his mind, and it seemed as if the eldunari that sided with Eragon could hold off those belonging to the king. However as the fight progressed Eragon began to realize that the king was simply toying with him and that once galbatorix grew tired of Eragon, as it seemed he was beginning to, it would take mere seconds to finish him off. Even as Eragon realized this, the king spoke a word. It was not a word Eragon had ever heard before, nor would he ever hear it again. As the king spoke Eragon felt himself become fixed in place, no amount of strength he used was able to break him free. Saphira also seemed immobilized by the king's great power. Arya however, was for some reason that would forever remain unknown to Eragon was not, and she sprang towards the mad king even as Eragon cried for her to run. Of course she was unable to touch the king with her swords but the entirety of her body weight, light as it was, crashed into the king breaking his concentration allowing both Eragon and Saphira to move. Eragon leapt forward slashing his sword down toward the king, while at the same time attacking the king with his mind.

For a moment Eragon thought that perhaps he had won. But as a great wizard once said, "nothing is ever easy" and the king's wards blocked the blade while his eldunari protected his mind. Upon standing and throwing Arya off, the king once again bound Eragon and Saphera, but this time he did not make the mistake leaving Arya to her own devices. "A valid and admirable attempt, but futile all the same" stated galbatorix. "And now younglings, it is time for you to acknowledge me as your true master." As the king said this, Eragon felt a tendril of thought so fine that it bypassed his barriers almost without effort. _And so ends the great hope of the varden and of a free alagaesia. _Thought eragon. For he had lost, they had lost, and this was the end. As this thought crossed his mind he decided that it was an unacceptable outcome. Drawing on all of his power along with the power of eldunari that fought with him and everything else he could touch with his mind he cast a spell. It was not an attack on the king, not directly. It was an attack on the dragons. His spell shattered every heart of hearts under galbatorix's control. The king's eyes widened as he realized what eragon had done, and even as the power of the dragons exploded outward and away from their once confined structures galbatorix harnessed that power to cast a spell of his own.

The last thing Eragon saw before his wards, powered by the eldunari that were with him, flashed into place to protect him, was the king exploding in a burst of light so bright it burned all that he was looking at into his eyes for a short time. Suddenly he dropped to his knees, his legs giving way beneath him. He felt half his soul ripped from his body. As he collapsed to the ground he turned seeking the comfort that he knew the two he loved most in this world, or any other, could give him. But where Saphira and Arya should have been there were only charred bones upon blackened ground. And then all went black.

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Opening his eyes, Eragon blinked to clear the haze. He peered around the darkened ally still slightly disoriented and trying to decide where exactly it was he was standing. He shook his head in attempt to clear it of such stygian thoughts before stepping out from between the tents into a slightly more lighted causeway that ran the length of the fair. Sighing deeply he trudged off in the general direction of his personal tent. Having had his fill of being in front of such a horde of people he was ready for the quiet solitude of his tent.

**Hey guys, if you actually made it this far, thanks. This is only my second attempt at writing anything for this website and I would love some feedback. What I should work on, what was good, what was bad, and if I should go die in a hole and never write again. As for mistakes with grammar/misplaced words and the like, I had no proof reader so it probably had some mistakes. anyway thanks for reading and let me know what you think. Also (and this is the last thing ill make you read I promise) I'm not really sure where i want to go with this (I do have some ideas of course) so if you have any ideas please let me know. I may or may not put them into the story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**hey guys I'm back. Just to clarify before we get to the story, Eragon goes under a different name when talking to other people. So when people talk to or think about Eragon they use that name. However ****when Eragon thinks about himself or the story is talking about him not under the context of other people then I use the name Eragon. Insert disclaimer yada yada. please enjoy.**

Climbing tiredly out of his tent the next morning Eragon stood for a few moments watching the commotion around him as the camp was broken down. The familiar bustle grated on his nerves as they prepared for the trek to the next town. He was so tired of the routine, only two or three days at each town before moving on. Never staying in one place, always on the move. He sighed and began to take his own tent down before loading it onto one of the many wagons belonging to the traveling fair. He hated this life, as much as he loved adventure and seeing the world, he was seriously tired of living his life not so much on the road, but on the road alone. However, no matter how much he wished to just live in silence away from all these people who did not know him or anything about him, he owed it to Arya and to all those who had died in the great struggle, to make sure the world knew what they had sacrificed. To make all these people understand that without the sacrifice that those he loved had made, this golden age would not exist.

Just as Eragon tossed his tent and other belongings into the back of the wagon that he would be traveling in, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning he found Drash, a long-standing friend of his.

"Svan, you seem troubled this morning, which I do have to say is a rare occurrence as you don't usually seem anything at all."

As usual after coming out of such deep reflection, it took Eragon a moment to adjust to his selected identity.

"I am doing quite well, thank you."

"Ahh just as cold as ever I see." Drash smiled. "Not to change the subject but it seems as if we are just about ready to get moving."

Nodding, Eragon took one last look around the village from which they were about to depart before jumping into the back of the wagon along side his friend. Today was exactly the same as so many others and yet, it was also different. Today marked the four hundredth anniversary of their death. Four hundred years since the death of all that he held dear.

Looking out into a valley nestled between the mountains of the spine, he realized just how close he was to where everything started. At the end of the valley they were now passing was the new Carvahall, along with the graves of Roran, Katrina and their children. He peered down the length of the valley in the futile hope of catching sight of his old home or at least the falls that stood watch over it. Suddenly coming to a decision, he jumped down from the wagon and jogged up to the front of the procession.

Reaching the front of the caravan Eragon called out to Ammon, the leader of their motley band of entertainers. "Ammon, you were talking not more than a fortnight ago of looking for new places to ply our craft."

"So I was, what of it?" from past experience Eragon knew they were no more than half a league from the point where the road would split in order to lead into the valley. If he intended to convince Ammon to visit Carvahall he would need to do it quickly.

"Not far ahead the road will split. The left fork will lead us to small town where we could…" He was cut off by guttural yell. Spinning toward the source of the sound Eragon stared in horror at what appeared to be a rather large band of urgals smashing into the line of wagons and carts. How they had gotten so close without anyone, especially himself, noticing and what they were doing here he did not know. His thoughts were cut short by a kull deciding to try and take his head off with a spiked club.

As the urgals reached the road Ammon jumped down from his place on the lead wagon and drew his sword. He watched as Svan dodged backward, almost faster then the eye could follow, to avoid an attacking kull before ducking under the kull's outstretched arms and slicing its chest open with a dagger that had appeared out of nowhere. Shaking off his stupor, Ammon let loose a cry to match the urgal's and charged into the fray.

After killing the first kull to come his way, Eragon tried to make it back to his wagon. If he was going to fight a band of urgals he was going to need more than a single dagger. Upon reaching the wagon he had been traveling in, he pulled out his sword. Well not _his_ sword but one he could use, one that would not proclaim him as the long lost rider. Pulling his sword from amongst the baggage he turned to the fight once more. He almost relished this, not the killing, never that, but this dance between life and death. It almost reminded him of another time, a time that he had those he loved at his side. Shaking his head to clear it he leapt forward raising his sword to block the slash of an urgal weapon that he could not quite name. Spinning his way through the ranks, if you could call them ranks, of the urgals he left nothing but red mist and bodies in his wake. The sword he held was nothing compared to _his _sword,to the one he had used in the Great War, but it served him well enough. None stood before him and lived, he quickly and efficiently worked his way through the urgals leaving none alive. As Eragon was cleaving an urgal from head to groin he heard a scream. His head wiped towards the owner of the sound. What he found was a raven-haired woman cowering before an urgal with its arm raised to deliver a deathblow. Without thought or preparation Eragon leapt toward the urgal, but even with all his elven speed, even with all his training, he could never reach her in time. And so, he did the only thing he could, for the first time in four hundred years, he used magic.

The urgal's head jerked back on a broken neck and the beast itself crashed to the ground. Not even waiting for the creature to hit the ground, Eragon rushed to the woman's side. As he dropped to his knees next to her he froze for a split second, before rushing back into the present. It wasn't, he realized, Arya on the ground before him but simply one of the many women traveling with their troupe. Helping the woman to her feet, Eragon turned only to find the last of the urgals being dispatched. The fighting had lasted no more than ten minutes at most but as the last one fell and he surveyed the carnage he remembered just how much death even a small battle could cause.

As he meandered through the chaos Eragon came across Ammon also assessing the damage. Eragon caught Ammon's eye and he walked over to meet him. They stood together in silence for a few moments letting what had just happened sink in. Finally looking over at his companion Ammon sighed. "So, you mentioned a village not far from here?"

Eragon took a few seconds to respond. He knew that many were going to need medical attention and to rest and recover after this, not to mention the supplies they would need to replace since some had been destroyed in the fighting. However, now that Urgals had attacked he was not so sure he wanted to go to carvahall anymore. He did not really want to bring that kind of trouble to his hometown. Who knew if there were more urgals out there and if they would follow them to town. But as much as he did not want to bring harm to more people, namely those of his village, he also could not allow those already hurt to go with the aid they needed.

With that in mind he made his decision on how to answer Ammon. "Indeed there is. About half a league from here we need to take the left fork, after that it would normally be about half a days travel. Considering the wounded we have I would say that it will take about a day at least to get there."

"Well then, if that's the closest then that's where we're headed" stated Ammon with a quick nod.

And that settled it. Eragon was going home.

**Hope you find the story interesting so far. Again please review to let me know what i can improve on and whatnot. Also thanks to my first two reviewers.**


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